To be free
by Oi opakio
Summary: Feliciano is a young Roman, grandson to a wealthy politician. He has no future - no dreams - until he is introduced to his cold new slave, Ludwig. Something happenes to change everything, and Feliciano's world starts to fall down around him.
1. Chapter 1

Feliciano Vargas stretched, spread-eagled amongst the ruffled sheets and cushions that were set out on the shade of the courtyard. He was luxurious in his half-waking state, the early afternoon sun glaring down harshly as was typical of the summer, a gentle breeze drafting through the pillars that supported the building. In the middle of the courtyard, beyond the comforting shade, a fountain sounded a melodic song, the waters glittering in the sunlight, fish – all named lovingly by himself – swimming in the bowl below.

It was through half-lidded eyes that the boy gazed at the familiar surroundings: the smooth tiles of the floor, the quenched leaved of tall, fat plants, the intricate ceramic designs that depicted tales of gods and heroes and sacrifices and wars. His grandpa used to tell him these stories when he was younger, and while he enjoyed the tales of their ancestors, he equally appreciated the rough sound of his grandpa's voice and the comforting presence that accompanied his carer. It wasn't often that he got to spend time with Roma, even when he was a child. The man, a retired politician, was still occupied with the trades of his younger self, as if he couldn't bear to admit his age.

Besides Roma, Feliciano was left with only his elder brother and the many household slaves and servants that looked after them. Lovino, as the elder, was expected to inherit their grandpa's status, and consequently spent most of his waking hours studying the inner works of Roman civilisation, so Feliciano saw him properly only during the rare times that their grandpa returned home and they ate together, occasionally tripping to a circus that Feli sat through with clenched hands and stomach, eyes averted, as real people fought and died before him.

He had never liked the circus. Too much conflict; too much blood.

Shaking the though away, Feli was quick to regain his mood as he remembered that this was a day he had been awaiting for quite some time: his grandpa's return. The old man would be coming to stay for a whole fortnight, longer than usual. Before his departure the previous time, he had promised Feliciano a surprise, and the young Roman had been itching to discover what exactly it was. For two months, the scribes of philosophy and poetry failed to entertain his as much as they used to, and he found his thoughts wandering on the long walks through the nearby forest.

Today, the gods willing, that would change. Feliciano frequently chided himself for getting worked up over trivial matters, but in short his life was boring. There were no expectations on his for his future; no hopes or aspirations. He lived for family and pleasure, free from the real world. Every small matter was massive to him. Every minuet spent with a loved one cherished.

He was broken from his thoughts by a slave's entrance. "Ah, you're awake Feli. Good. Your grandpa's here." The woman was a few years his elder, her wavy brown hair falling untamed on broad shoulders. She spoke with a masculine lisp and a Germanic accent, her mannerisms frequently clashing with the fine Roman culture she had been expected to learn. Despite this, the woman could live in peace, under the duty of first being company for, and later serving the gentle young Roman who treated her as an equal.

Said Roman's face lit up at the sight of his long-term companion. "Elizabeta! It it time already? I am still ugly from sleep, and my tunic is crumpled and-"

"Feli, hush. That is why I am here, is it not?" She smirked as she made her way to him, and worked to make the boy presentable, smoothing down his hair and straitening the tunic he wore. Slipping sandals onto his feet, she clapped her hands promptly – briskly – and straitened herself to standing. The final touch was an intricately carved ivory broach that she clipped to his shoulder. It had belonged to his mother.

"All done. Now, we must hurry, your blasted brother is already there, and your grandpa is not a patient man." They hurried through the villa, Feli once tripping into a stuttering cleaner who apologised thoroughly before he had the chance to let the man know that he was not angry, nor did he want to hurt the slave or his family. Breathless and newly unkempt, they finally arrived at the entrance room, where Feliciano was greeted by a grinning Roma who engulfed him in a tight hug, and a pouting Lovino, who glared at the floor. It seemed like just Feli's presence made his brother angry.

"My son, how are you? How have you been!" Grandpa Roma asked excitedly.

"I have been well, as usual. But I am happy that you are home now. I've been so bored!"

"Bored?" Roma faked horror, "and why is my Feli's brother not taking on the task of maintaining good relations between yourselves? Lovino, you are the oldest."

Lovino expression, if possible, soured more. "I have enough studying to do without Feliciano's pointless chatter. He's big now; he should be able to amuse himself." His brother's words hurt, and though Feliciano tried constantly to hide his anguish at his brother's hate for him, somehow the Roman failed every time.

Sensing the uneasy atmosphere between the two, Roma was quick to change the topic. "I am glad you have been studying, Lovi, we can't have an uneducated little boy taking after my name."

"Well that is true."

"Anyhow, I am going to freshen up before spending some more time with you boys. I'll have the cooks prepare a feast for tonight and we shall dine for hours, I promise. Oh, and we are going out tomorrow. To the slave market."

Lovino regarded his grandpa warily, "why would we go there? We don't need any more slaves."

"We need one more. I will discuss this with you over the evening meal, but for now, patience is a virtue. Now hurry along, get pretty," he gestured for the to be gone, and obediently, they rushed in opposite directions, Elizabeta close behind Feli after nodding respectfully at Roma.

* * *

"A slave for me?" Feliciano asked, puzzled. "But I have Eliza!"

The three of the family were reclining and picking from the plates of food served to them.

"You do, but I have decided that at sixteen you are far too old to have a female slave any more. The girl will be granted her freedom in due time, but as a young Roman you need at least one personal slave and bodyguard. So, I will be taking to tomorrow to the slave market to choose one. This is the surprise I had mentioned last time. It is a big point in your life."

"A s-slave? Choose a slave? But Grandpa, I really don't need one, and I am honestly fine with Elizabeta. She is strong, and I really don't see why it is so important that I have a man to protect me. There is nothing to protect from!" Feliciano protested, unsure of how to react to the news. Owning a slave – choosing his _first_ one – it was overwhelming, and the boy wasn't sure he really wanted a slave in the first place. Elizabeta was a friend before she served him, and he enjoyed the relationship. She was his only company, and with her gone...

Was the prospect even worth imagining?

Sighing, grandpa Roma swung his legs to the ground, and sat up. His face, usually so jovial, was slightly regretful, and it frightened Feli. "I think I have kept you too protected from the world outside." The man sent Lovino a glare at the boy's sarcastic snort. "There are people, Feli, that want to hurt you, because they want to hurt me. I have power, and if you are a way to upset my power, they will readily bring harm to you; may the gods prevent it they may even kill you! A woman does not have enough power to protect you from all the evil out there."

"And he thinks you and Liza are having sex," Lovino inputted crudely, and was silenced again by another harsh glare.

Feli opened his mouth in consideration. He wasn't as innocent as he appeared, and knew at least a good amount about how terrifying the world was outside the protection of the villa truly was. If he was going to be made to have a slave, he might as well be grateful fro the protection and freedom to choose one he wanted, as opposed to having what had happened to his brother when grandpa Roma had brought a giant, stone-faced man to the villa to protect his grandchild. The two had never gotten along. It was the silent, stubborn rebellions in day to day life that Lovino was too merciful to complain about that drew his brother into a state of depression, until their grandpa had noticed his heir's upset and discreetly sold the slave on.

Lovino was then given the freedom to choose his own slave, and had ended up with a quiet, dedicated man who didn't talk much and liked cats. That was what Lovino wanted, sans the cat part.

Resigning himself to Roma's best judgement, Feliciano nodded, hiding the apprehension under a mask of gratitude. After reminding his grandson to wake early the next day, in order to be out early enough for the slave market to have fresh stock, Roma continued the conversation, chatting about his travels and telling stories of the dim-witted politicians he met. In a rare moment of brotherly union, Feliciano and Lovino glanced at each other and allowed small, almost shy smiles at their grandpa's light-hearted demeanour.

Yes, it was these moments that Feliciano cherished. Little did he know how minuscule – how insignificant – it would appear in the near future.

* * *

 **I love ancient Rome AUs so much! I have a lot of good feelings about this fanfic, so please enjoy, and perhaps send a review telling me what to do better, or what you liked ^_^**


	2. Chapter 2

Despite his early morning and lack of sleep, Feliciano was bombarded with too many new sights and sensations to acknowledge his fatigue. He was careful to stick to his grandpa like glue as they picked their way throughout the flood of people all intent of their business. In the centre of Rome – a honey pot for trade – it didn't mater if you were rich or poor, hungry or satisfied, all were cooped together like livestock in a pen.

The boy had been both excited and apprehensive to venture into the city with only his grandpa and Elizabeta for company. For sixteen years he had lived on the outskirts of Rome, the pinnacle of Roman glory, yet had not set a foot within a two mile radius of the centre. The sheer size and amount of people astonished him. The noise, the multitude of smells: how was he meant to keep a strait head and intent on his purposes when he was bombarded with new sensations by the second?

Thankfully, he had two of the closest people to him to guide him through the pandemonium, and it was not long before the hasty bartering of the slave market began to reach his ears. A rush of adrenaline flooded his veins. All his life he had heard about this place, but whether it was Olympus of Tartarus he could not tell. From the descriptions from free men, many thought it an honourable place. It was a place they could search for the finest and reiterate their position in the world. Meanwhile, the slaves who trusted him enough to share their honest opinion told stories of pain and struggle. The look on their faces when they recalled the pre-ownership days was haunting.

In all honesty, Feliciano was unsure of his opinion on slavery in general. He had grown up in a society that depended on one man's ownership over another, yet he had always wondered: why was that particular man the maser and the other the slave. It didn't make sense! The slaves he knew were the same human beings like himself, and his grandpa and brother. They were human, and intelligent and emotional, just like anyone else, surely!

Once, he had proposed this argument to his grandpa, who and stuttered over a vague response that made no sense. From then on, he had learned to accept it as simply how things were and to be thankful that he was lucky enough to be born on the side of the free.

"We're here Feli." He was drawn from his thoughts by his grandpa's prompting voice. Looking up from the ground, the boy's eyes widened at the orderly chaos. People were making their way through blocks of slaves, each sectioned off by whichever trader they belonged to. His eyes flashed from one stall to another, overwhelmed by the intensity of the emotions. People viscously haggled for the best price, occasionally getting into conflict with the traders themselves, who adamantly stated again that the price was indeed fair. Each trader seemed to have slaves with common features respectively. There were the dark-skinned ones from Africa, and the scraggly yet spirited Britons. Such an array of tall and short, muscular and scrawny, rebellious and those taken by despair.

"W-where do I start? How do I even do this, grandpa, how do I know if it's the right one?"

"It depends on what you are looking for," Elizabeta interrupted before Roma could share his wisdom. The woman was frowning at the chaos in front of her, her eyes disapproving and pitying. "What do you want from you slave, Feli? Do you want them to have their own voice, or would you prefer them to be submissive, like a kicked dog?"

"I would recommend a balance of the two," Roma added hastily, "You want someone you can look at and say 'that is a person', but not one who is going to give you trouble every ten seconds. Not like Romano's old one. You also need to make sure that he won't stab you in your sleep. You are looking for a bodyguard: someone to protect you, not the opposite."

"Can I walk around a bit, just to see what's on offer?" Feliciano asked. His grandpa nodded in assent, and the three entered the confusion of bodies and the aroma of sweat. Yet again, Feli found himself taken aback at the sheer variety that was around him. He was in turmoil, a conflict on who to pick; _how_ to pick. Accepting that all there was to do was look, the boy slowly meandered through the crowd, stopping occasionally to look closer at a potential match.

He was at his wits end, frustrated at himself for either being too picky or too hesitant, when he caught the flash of blue eyes that felt somehow refreshing against the anger or despair he saw in the majority of others around him. Turning in the direction of those eyes, he saw a cluster of slaves under the strict watch of a burly slave-driver. They were Germanic, pasty faced and light-haired. All were thin, wearing rags, obviously having endured much hardship in recent times, yet the spirit of each of the men was unlike any of the other slaves Feli had observed.

They were defiant in their independence, but not drunk on it. Each had an order to their behaviour that aided the sense of respect that one couldn't help but feel towards them. The one that had caught his eye stood strait and collectedly, a difficult feat in the man's position. A Roman was standing before him, prodding the man's muscled arms critically, examining his nails, even opening his mouth to look at his teeth. Throughout the dehumanising treatment, the man remained proud and calm. Knowing that resistance would be in vain, he allowed the man to continue his invasive observations unchallenged.

But the look in his eyes, that steely determination, a fire cloaked beneath water, was enough to convince Feli that he had found his ideal 'balanced slave', be it quite an extreme.

Whatever had drawn him to the man, he was going to stick by his decision.

"Grandpa, that one. I want that one," Feli pointed to the slave, who had finally been left alone while the man who'd been examining him was discussing something with the slave-dealer.

Roma hesitated, "Feli, those are not house slaves. They are Germanic barbarians and with that comes danger. Look! That man there, the one talking to the dealer, he is a scout from a gladiator school. He wants to make that man into a warrior."

"To send into the arena and die?" Feli asked in horror.

"No. To be trained to kill." And somehow, that was worse. To think that the proud man he saw there would be devalued into a machine that killed for the crowd's pleasure was, to him, unthinkable.

"Grandpa, I can't explain it, but I really need that slave. That one – not one else."

Grandpa Roma looked into the boy's eyes, and saw a passion he had never seen before there. It was unexplainable, but the man knew that some things in life were. Some things didn't make sense, things like death and love. Roma would know. Emotion, pure, raw emotion, was the blood of the Vargas family. He bore it himself, and had passed it to his beloved daughter who, even in the face of death, had an infectious joy that others loved her for. Feliciano, much like his mother, would grasp and idea and refuse to let go. Stubborn child.

"Okay," the man agreed in defeat, his voice for once sounding his age. The thanks that flooded his grandson's face was reward enough. Approaching the dealer, Feli and Elizabeta nervously shadowing him, he fixed his trademark 'no nonsense' expression onto his face that he had learned through a long career of discussion and persuasion. He greeted the dealer, who turned away from the gladiator scout to regard the three in a judging glare.

"That one," Roma proposed bluntly, gesturing towards the German slave sans greeting.

The tradesman seemed taken aback at Roma's determination, before melting into his own perfected façade. "This is the most expensive I have. He is in peak condition; just asking to become a gladiator. In fact, this good man here is doing business as we speak.

"Whatever price he offers, I can give you more," Roma stated, maintaining his level gaze. While his grandpa continued the stubborn dance of words, Feli inched closer to the German in what he considered was a discreet manner. Just being close to him sent a tingle down his spine, an exhilaration. The boy bathed in the feeling, let it wash over him as he would water in the baths. There was an indescribable aura surrounding the slave, that made Feliciano feel undermined and humble, a thrill of humility; why had he never realised how drug-like weakness was when compared to strength?

He wasn't sure whether it was the desensitised focus of the man's eyes, the way they stared into the distance as though they were oblivious to all activity surrounding them, or the firm, uninviting stance, but Feli felt at unease as his eyes explored the man. And when, with a flash from nowhere, the eyes intercepted his curious gaze, a judder sent him questioning his logic in his decision to buy him as a slave. Those eyes – admirable indeed – but subsequently impenetrable. They saw him as Roman, and as far as the German was concerned, all Romans were his enemy.

"Three hundred denarii," Roma proposed to the side. Feliciano was distracted by the expensive price.

"Four hundred," the gladiator dealsman countered. Both men were set, square-shoulered and firm jawed, facing off like they were in battle. Feli saw his grandpa's hand twitch to his side, where a dagger was kept hidden, but he knew he wouldn't use it when not necessary. It was rather a reflex from his sparring days.

The Dealer crossed his arms in contempt. It was not often two men were so set on a slave that they would drive each other to ridiculous prices. Though, he admitted to himself in his head, the German's always fetched a fair price, and the one in question was quite a specimen.

"Five!" Roma parred in exasperation. Feliciano looked between them in apprehension. So much money, all for his sake.

There was silence on the opposition's side, as the muscular man stood, hands clenching and unclenching, teeth set so hard Feli wondered if they might break. Roma challenged the man to rise the price once more, his eyes calm but glinting with finality.

Finally, the other sighed, visibly relaxing as he accepted defeat. "I don't know why you are foolish enough to spend such money on what is about to be wasted talent, but I can find better deals else where." He turned to leave-

"He's for me," Feliciano input without thought, "I want him; it's my choice, not my Grandpa's. I wanted this one."

The man tutted, though Feli thought he could see a bemused curve pulling at the edge of his lips. "Well, you must be worth a lot to this old man. By Jupiter he's spending enough _money_ on you."

"Yes!" Feliciano brightened, and the man turned his back in bafflement. The whole situation was even more bizarre than the usual dim-witted haggling that he usually put up with. Without a word, he left, being swallowed almost immediately by the crowd.

Left behind, Feliciano was forced to confront the results of his impulsive actions. It was grandpa Roma who first acted, exchanging the money to the dealer, who took out a key and unsecured the chain trapping the German to the stake in the ground. He handed the heavy metal links to Roma, who twisted them round his wrist firmly. Looking the German in the eye, the Roman man's demeanour changed as he uttered simply, "you had better cause no trouble."

The German blinked deliberately, though gave no other indication that he understood. Apparently, for Roma this was enough, as he set off through the crowd without a moments hesitation to thank the slave dealer. Elizabeta and Feliciano followed closely behind, Feliciano all the while fighting the inner turmoil at what he had gotten himself in to.

( _line break)_

Feliciano had reluctantly volunteered to settle his new slave in alone as not to be a bother to those around him. While selfless, it was a stupid suggestion, but with much persuasion the stubborn Roman had bartered his way to only Elizabeta keeping watch, a dagger in her hands readily at all times. The German stood silently in Feli's courtyard and despite the surreal beauty of the place, he only stared into the waters of the fountain, appearing to be looking at something far beyond the physical.

Feli was not good at hiding his frustration. The German refused to cooperate with whatever he asked of him: when he handed the man a sponge from a bucket of scented water, the man had replaced it; when he asked why, the man gave no reply. The Roman had tried everything he could think of, and was currently pouting angrily, his arms folded against his chest in a childish display of petulance. This, Elizabeta thought, was why her master shouldn't own a 'proper' slave; he had neither social experience nor ability.

She herself found her curiosity racing at the presence of the German. He was from the same part of the world as she. He probably spoke the same native language of their homeland, one that had been taught to her in secret by her mother, who had given birth to her daughter whilst a slave herself. All her life, Elizabeta's sole purpose was to serve. She wanted to speak to him. Speak, in her tongue, freely, beautifully. German was like poetry, a song from deep within in contrast to the tip-toungued Latin she was forced to use daily.

 _"What is your name?"_ The man asked in German without warning, making Feliciano jump and Elizabeta look up in surprise.

" _My name?"_ She asked, and at his assented nod she continued, _"I am Elizabeta. I am a slave here." Like you,_ she though silently, but didn't voice in fear of triggering a negative response.

" _I am Ludwig."_

 _"Ludwig,"_ She repeated.

"Elizabeta, what is he saying?" Feliciano whined, tugging at her sleeve persistently, "What is Loodfig?"

Rather bravely, the woman pushed her young master away, inwardly chastising him for having such low sense. The German, as if suddenly remembering Feliciano was there, turned an accusing eye on the boy.

" _He is your owner?"_ Ludwig asked.

" _Yes, this is Feliciano. He is nieve and young mentally, but means well truly. Do you speak Latin? We shouldn't really speak this language in a place like this. They will think we are conspiring."_ Ludwig looked displeased at the request, but switched to Latin much to Elizabeta's relief.

"I speak Latin, but not well. Is a very different tongue to my – our – own."

"You understood everything I had been saying?" Feliciano questioned rhetorically, "but why wouldn't you answer me. Please tell me your name. I am Feliciano, but you can call me Feli. You are safe from those mean people here. Oh! I didn't ask: what is your name?"

"His name is Ludwig, Feli. Try to understand what this is like for him." Elizabeta pleaded.

Subdued, Feliciano took a shy step back. "I'm sorry, Ludwig, everyone says I talk too much. Please don't take offence from it." From the corner of her eye, Elizabeta caught the German raising his eyebrows. The movement in itself was tiny, but compared to the rest of the time she had known him, it was the most emotion he had shown since coming here. The woman patted Feliciano's shoulder affectionately, but with a finality that demanded her master obey her.

"Feli, I know you would like to get to know Ludwig, but I think it would be best if I show him around and explain the rules of this household. Besides, I imagine that you are suitably tired from this morning, and dirty from the market. Why don't you take a bath?"

Reluctantly, Feliciano agreed, inside knowing that his female slave was right, and was far more qualified to make the uptight German feel a little more at peace. As he left, hesitantly looking behind for a brief moment, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders; felt he could breathe a little easier. Ludwig – that was such an alien name – had a heavy presence that simultaneously suffocated Feliciano and left him desiring to feel it again, if only to conquer the logically thick barrier between them. The worst part about it: Feliciano didn't have a clue why the man made him feel this way, why he wanted, almost needed to persist in getting to know this person. There seemed to be no reason why Ludwig would be different from anyone else.

Feliciano liked the new experience. It broke the monotonous rhythm of his life unapologetically. It made his mind fly and his heart race. It was like nothing he had ever felt before.

The man was a slave. He was just a slave and a new friend to keep Feli company. That evening, the young Roman would speak with the other in the privacy of his own rooms, without anyone to disrupt them. As with most of the slaves at the house when they first came, he would have plenty of interesting German tales to fascinate Feli with, and encourage his dreams to leave him breathless in the morning.

Grandpa Roma worried too much; Feliciano trusted the German. Surely, if he was planning to escape, he would have done it by now. Life would settle into routine and with routine would come the familiar boredom. Feliciano couldn't say he looked forward to it, but he bore with it like the good, faithful grandson that he was.

 _(line break)_

 **Hello again, lovely followers. I would like to thank everyone who had favourited and followed. What a lovely surprise it was to wake to an inbox full of support! I am updating early this week because I have been ill and had more time to write, and next week I have off school. Hopefully, I can update a few more times than I usually would.**

 **This is the last introductory chapter. From now on, the ball is starting to get rolling, and we have quite a plot ahead of us. I am very excited to be writing this, and I hope you are enjoying reading it as much as I am writing.**

 **As usual – and this should go without saying – please review. I don't mind whether it is praise or critique, I just adore getting proof that someone, somewhere is enjoying my writing. It really motivates me. Apart from that, thank you again for following and reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi all. I am sorry for the late update. I know I said I would be more frequent during the holidays, but I found this chapter particularly challenging and had to dedicate more time to it than normal. It is here now. Thank you for waiting; please enjoy!**

_Space_

The night sounds did little to comfort Feliciano. Through his open window, a warm breeze disturbed the thin sheet curtain which flowed liquidly into the room, trailing the blueness of moonlight. Outside, the singing of the crickets sounded more like highly pitched screams. They rang in Feli's ears and only added to his unease. It felt like a premonition – a bad one. Laying in his bed, the boy huddled under his silken sheets despite the warm temperatures and the sweat that laced his skin. His breath felt like fire on his lips and the heat continued into his tight chest. Through the silver darkness, his eyes shone, reflecting light like the eyes of prey, black in fear and anxiety.

He was alone. His rooms that were so full of material possession had never felt more empty and never before had he felt scared of the dark. He was scared of many things, but shadows had never frightened him, only the things that caused them. And no person cast a shadow on the floor that night.

He had seen nothing of Elizabeta or Ludwig. It had been hours since he had left them alone, and surely Elizabeta wouldn't have forgotten to bid him goodnight like she had for years, no fail. The boy had been expecting to see Ludwig as well, since in the room to the side was a small bed where the man could rest during the night, his sleeping area separate from the slaves quarters as to allow him to thoroughly guard his charge. Even though Grandpa Roma had instructed that Feli have the German sleep with the other slaves until they could trust him, the boy had discretely asked it of Elizabeta to take him to the comfort of Feli's chambers after dark.

His troubled mind was a contrast to his earlier elated state, though Feli was used to mood swings, and had come to expect a fall after a high. But this time, the high had been meant to last for longer, for much longer. Surely he was being paranoid. Eliza had probably taken Ludwig to the slave's quarters in order to avoid the potential wrath of Roma that would inevitably fall down on them in the protective man found out their disobedience. Maybe, in their own way, _she_ was protecting Feliciano herself.

Feli couldn't quiet the thoughts that raced through his mind. They bothered him without rest, and adrenaline refused him sleep. Silently, the boy say up, shrugging the sheets back onto the bed as he placed his bare feet on the icy floor and raised to standing. Through the eerily silent villa, he made his way towards the slave quarters, where the fifteen or so family-owned slaves that were vital in the running of the household slept at night. Elizabeta slept in a room with the women, and often complained of the fat old cook's snoring; despite snoring just as badly herself (Feliciano had taken the authority to listen in on night a few years ago and would swear by the family gods that the woman was half pig).

The dark series of rooms were half-underground, with fragmented windows being the sole source of light. At night, the rooms become a labyrinth that was near impossible to govern. Feli thanked the gods he was well versed on midnight expeditions that usually led to Elizabeta's room, where they would sneak through the night, playing at being assassins. How Feli missed the days of when he was younger.

Finally arriving at his friend's room, he cautiously pushed open the door to the point just before he knew it would squeak. Then, taking the greatest care, he tip-toed to her thin, low bed, crouching down by the covers and pressing on them lightly. His hand fell through. A jolt of uncertainty passing through him, he tried again in vain. He threw the covers back, only to be faced with the white sheet beneath.

Where was Elizabeta? Was Ludwig with her? Why would they be up so late at this time of the night; what if something had happened to them? The boy's breath came in short, tense gasps as he knelt helplessly, not having a clue what to do. A voice beside him, "is that you, master Feliciano?"

He spun around so fast he felt dizzy. "Y-yes, it's me. Have you seen Elizabeta?" It was a meek young slave girl who had spoken, and any fear Feli might have felt at the unexpected voice, quickly vanished at her pale face.

"She said you would look for her here. I don't know where she is, but she gave me this. I can't read, so if it's private I wouldn't know anyway." She handed him a slip of parchment that must have been hastily ripped from one of the scrolls in the library. His grandpa would be furious if he found out, but Feli would give no hint as to who was responsible. Running his eyes over it, it was soon clear that the scrawled writing was illegible in the dim room.

"Thank you," Feliciano said, before hurrying to a lighter place, finding himself in the main courtyard near the entrance. He hastily read the writing, which was clearly Elizabeta's by the look of the uneven hand and poor spelling. His eyes widened more with each word.

 _Feliciano,_

 _I am so, so sorry. I just want to say that before you hate me. Please try to understand that I am a prisoner here. I love you, love you more than anyone but my own mother, but I am a prisoner here, living under the rule of a man who could have me killed for any mistake. Feli, I am a slave. Our friendship will never change that._

 _I have run away. It was sudden because I decided suddenly, and I can't risk saying goodbye. I can't risk putting you in danger. I am with Ludwig, but apart from that, I can give no more information._

 _Stay safe and grow to be a wonderful person. If there is but one regret I have, it is not being there to journey through life together._

 _Elizabeta._

He read the message again, then a third time. The more he read the words, the more his heart raced, pumping a potion of emotions that, felt all at once, were an agony in his body. Unable to stop the tears, Feli held the parchment to his chest and sank to his knees, suddenly feeling painfully alone, instantly aware of how few in number his friends were. All at once, two people who were meant to be eternally by his side had abandoned him. One he had known for so long.

His first clear thought was of anger. How could his friend leave him with an expressionless man she had barely known for a day after the years they had spent together? Did their companionship mean so little to her? However, he was hasty to chide himself, well aware about the truth in her words. His fury was short-lived, and melted into a concern for their safety. He wasn't stupid, he knew what happened to escaped slaves if they were caught, which more often than not, they were. They would be lucky to escape with their lives, especially under the harsh discipline of his grandpa.

He hadn't noticed the hollow in his torso, but it grew inside him, leaving him drained and hopeless. Briefly, he wondered how a feeling of pure nothingness could hurt so much, but perhaps it was the pain of something essential to his being having been ripped out. It was strange to think that so recently he had been childishly optimistic and excited, and how it had plummeted so quickly. All he could do was let himself be overtaken by the pain.

For hours he remained there, unable or unwilling to summon the strength to rise from his knees and decide what to do in response to the devastating news. Despite the night being warm, it didn't stop the heat leaving his body, his hands and feet icy and numb, goosebumps littering his arms. Just as the sun's first rays emerged from the horizon, it was Romano who discovered him.

Feliciano's brother rose early, and was making his way across the courtyard when he saw the hunched figure kneeling on the stone ground, perfectly still as if it were carved from stone. At first, he went to ignore whoever it was, but at catching sight of the undertone of red in the hair that shone in the sun, it was unmistakably Feliciano, his foolish brother. Puzzled, he took a few more steps towards the younger boy, curious to know why the enthusiastic one of the two was kneeling in an empty space like he was praying to Mars after a battle. Feliciano didn't have much to be upset about, with his perfect life and perfect reputation.

"Feli, get up!" He called, "what on earth are you doing?"

There was a desolate silence. Just as he was about to stride over there and drag the boy to his senses, Feliciano spoke, his voice scratchy and wavering, devoid of emotion. "I don't know what to do, Lovi." Lovino frowned, baffled at his brothers strange behaviour. He should have been used to Feli's oddities by now, but this even by Feli's standards was unusual. He found himself uncharacteristically concerned.

"What happened?" He asked, crouching down before the boy. Feliciano hid behind his fringe.

"They ran away," looking up, he grabbed Lovi's shoulders desperately, making the elder jump, "Elizabeta and Ludwig. They left me and... I think they are going to die. Grandpa will kill them, will he not?"

Lovino took a moment to take this in; strangely calm considering the state his brother was in. Though he disguised it, he always took care to keep up to date on what was going on in his brother's life. The younger one was stupid and helpless, and it wasn't hard to imagine him putting himself in unnecessary danger. He was impulsive. Lovino had grown up with him and may the gods be damned he knew it; bore the brunt of the idiot's actions more than once. They had grown apart at a young age, but he knew enough to be cautious of the boy's spontaneous nature.

"I'll inform Roma," he said to the huddled boy. A pair of panicked amber eyes shot up at him, halting him in standing up with their burning intensity. Feliciano gripped his biceps tighter, his fingers digging in painfully.

"Don't. Please brother, I'll do anything, but you know what grandpa will do if he catches them. Elizabeta is my closest friend. I don't think I could bare it if she were to be hurt," he closed his eyes regretfully, "no one need be hurt. What good will it do?"

With an ignored pang of emotion, Lovino realised just how much his brother had grown during the years they had been emotionally separate. As heir to the family name, bitterness had overtaken him, and jealousy at his brother's apparent freedom. Feli seemed to have all that he wanted and took it for granted as if shoving the notion in Lovino's face. Now, reflecting upon this, Lovino supposed that it wasn't his brother's fault – it was just the way things were.

None-the-less, despite the honesty in his brother's pleas, he had a duty to fulfil that overshadowed his conscience and loyalty to his brother. Pulling back more harshly than he had intended, he stood up so fast that his head spun, and turned his back on the pathetic figure below him. "I'm sorry Feli, you may hold the truth in your breath, but consider your place in this household. Roma is going to find out eventually, and it is best he hears it from one of us."

"Don't tell him; don't tell him," Feliciano sobbed mindlessly, beyond reason, his high voice lost in the air between them. Lovino tried to find it in himself to feel pity, but all he could muster was the disgust at the other's weakness. A small part of him feared that it mirrored himself.

"Don't tell me what." A stern voice, so vastly different from the tone the older man usually used that he could have been another person.

Both boys turned as if being caught in an illegal act, their eyes wide and stinging in the morning air. Feliciano was on hands and knees, his tunic riding up so that his thin legs were showing to the thigh, and Lovino standing alert, his breath stuck in his throat. Their grandpa was standing in the entrance of a hallway, obviously having been informed of the strange scene his unruly grandsons were causing in the ungodly hour of the morning. His face was unusually hard, thick brows furrowed in displeasure.

The silence between them grew heavier by the second until Lovino could take it no longer. "His slaves ran away!" He shouted, too loudly. Feli jumped.

There was a moment while that information was processed. During that time, Feli allowed himself to glance up, fearful of the harsh expression in his grandpa's face. Finally, the man drew a breath, "And why was I not the first one to hear about this?"

"I only just found out myself," the eldest stuttered. He gestured to Feliciano on the ground, "my brother is just upset." Both cowered under the hawk eye, awaiting judgement, but it didn't come. Roma softened as he regarded the two boys, one so stubborn in his defence and the other too innocent to truly understand the implications of his silence.

""I will call for a search. By tomorrow this will all be over," Roma decreed, watching his youngest grandson's eyes widen in horror.

"No! Grandpa, you can't! Just let them be, it will make no difference whether you punish them or not." Feliciano scrambled to his feet, bravely squaring his shoulders in defiance, determined to protect two lives that needn't be wasted.

The look Roma gave him was like a knife, cold and deadly. "Feliciano," he said, his voice lowered in warning, "you are like a son to me and I love you more than most in this world, but I will not – _can_ not – allow you to speak out of order in such a way. What I say is final." He turned harshly with a flourish, the loose yet formal robes flying out as the air caught them.

Feliciano had never been spoken to like that by his grandpa, and a part of him urged him to flee immediately to his room. Yet another, steelier part of his personality forced him to stand strong in conviction. He stepped forward, grabbing Roma's shoulder with fingers digging into the hard flesh, pulling so that the man spun to face him once more. The movement was spontaneous and his mind hadn't halted to consider such an action; it had felt like the only option. It was only as he stared into the brown, now black, eyes that glared at him that he realised how stupid he had been – he had stepped over a line he had saw no one else cross when it came to Roma.

There was a brief yet weighted moment as the three remaining of the Vargas family processed what Feli had done. The boy himself loosened his grip on the man's shoulder until eventually his hand fell slack to his side. He was shaking. Rooted to the spot. Now truly he felt a fraction of the fear a slave must feel when under judgement from the retired politician and in a way he understood fully why Elizabeta had chosen to escape with Ludwig when she did.

The standoff was broken when Roma raised a conditioned fist and backhanded his grandson heavily across the face. Feli yelled, falling back into Lovino who shakily held him until he found his feet once more. He held his face, which was burning and hot, the coolness of his palm the only relief from the sudden pain. He had never experienced physical discomfort beyond hunger or thirst or fatigue before, and he was shocked at how _bad_ it felt. What made it worse was the fact that it came from the one person who had always protected him from such pain, who had loved him and promised to care for him forever. The betrayal hurt more than the blow itself.

Roma, who was regarding the sight before him, finally relaxed with a sigh and turned wordlessly away, his footsteps getting faint into the distance. Neither of the boys noticed the regret that played across his features; they were hidden beneath a mask of control. Lovino and Feliciano didn't speak after that, rather the elder led his younger brother to his room and left without acknowledgement. Feli stared into the darkness, wishing his mind was as still as the dawn air.

_Blank space_

 **I hope the quality of this chapter is as good as the previous ones. Again, I found it pretty tricky to write, and am struggling to pace the work. If you are finding it too fast or slow, please let me know so that I can ensure that my writing is to the best of quality. If you enjoyed it, please let me know as well, because it is very motivating to know that people enjoy my works as much as I enjoy writing them. Also, I apologise for any mistakes, the editing process was a little rushed and I may revise this chapter to make sure there are fewer errors later. Thanks again.**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hello people. Sorry for the wait, life kind of smacked me in the face. Also, when a friend reads this and says plain that it's boring, it can be a little disheartening. She meant well, but oh well. I tried my best. Also, please not that this is unedited due to my guilt of taking so long to update, to excuse any mistakes.**_

_line Break_

The bruise on Feliciano's face had almost disappeared by the time any news had arrived as of the whereabouts of Ludwig or Elizabeta. It came in the form of yelling and a crowd of struggling hired slaves captors all yelling stifled curses to the gods. The young Roman had anxiously started to head to the commotion only to be intercepted by the stern, wordless form of his Grandpa Roma, who led him stone faced towards the library to receive an unbidden Latin lesson.

Feliciano hadn't dared to retaliate; not even to ask what exactly was happening. For the past week, his relationship with his caretaker had been strained and unnatural for the first time in his life. The matter of Ludwig was an unspoken disagreement that reflected every interaction they had, and he could sense the frustration brewing in his grandfather's attitude.

For the whole afternoon, Feliciano was tortured with the poetry he usually loved, shackled by the very scrolls he spent obsessing over just days before. Every now and then, one of his grandfather's workers would request the man's presence, and Roma would excuse himself and disappear to sort what Feliciano guessed was business to do with his friends' capture. During the time of his grandpa's absence, Feli would take the time to allow his true worry to show as a frown on his face, fists fighting the urge to scrunch the papers that littered the table in front of him.

Finally, he was put out of his misery. After half an hour of being away, his grandpa returned yet again, though this time the expression on his face was less detached – only slightly. There was an extra crease between his eyebrows and Feliciano could see the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching. The boy couldn't work out whether he was anxious, angry or worried. His eyes, the true indicator of his mood, were barred away from Feliciano's inquiring eyes.

Sighing slightly, the man took a seat opposite his grandson, resting his hands on the table and looking the boy dead in the eyes. Feliciano shuffled, uncomfortable under the man's heavy gaze.

"They caught the German," Roma started, "he is in the cell." There was a small holding cell down a discreet passageway in the courtyard. Not many of the workers knew of it, only the house slaves and the Vargas' themselves. Roma usually used it for petty thieves that picked the wrong person to try to rob, though he had never had any use for it as serious as this.

Not trusting himself to say anymore without blowing up in anger or dissolving into tears from the tension of it all, Feliciano replied with a simple "o-okay," his gaze set on the table like it was a burden.

"Elizabeta hasn't been found. There is still a group going after her, and we are expecting her to be caught very soon." He finally looked away, "she won't manage to get too far."

This caught Feliciano's attention more than the rest. There was something about that wording, the way his Gandpa looked almost – guilty – that didn't sit right with him. "What do you mean?"

Roma sighed again, this time the stress he had apparently been feeling prominently evident. "The German was found stealing food from a stall in the harbour. They chased him – he was a fast runner and good at deceiving during the chase – they chased him to an old warehouse used to store nets and boats and the like. They had him cornered until Elizabeta appeared with a dagger and stabbed one of the men. That man will be okay, but at the time it gave the German enough time to escape. He grabbed Elizabeta and dragged her away, but not before she was stabbed herself. Not before the German was caught in a net cast, and brought down."

Feliciano's eyes were wide. The tale seemed too concise to be true, yet his grandpa didn't lie, and recently he felt the man would not joke with him anymore like all too recently they had. His head rung with the phrases that refused to leave him: stabbed one of the men, stabbed herself, caught, brought down…

"Calm down," Roma ordered gently, almost with the same tone he used before tensions arose. Feli checked himself and realised that he had been panting, his throat tight in panic. Bringing a hand shakily to his face, it felt hot to touch. He raised his eyes to meet his grandpa's.

"You're not going to show them mercy, are you?"

"It is not my position to show mercy. This is something you must learn; one day you will be in the same place as me."

"I don't want to, though," Feli replied, fighting the angry tears that burned behind his eyes. Tears of desperation and helplessness; he felt almost as trapped as his German in the cell below the ground.

The older man looked at his child sadly. There was regret there – somewhere – somewhere hidden and protected, in a place no one was allowed to enter. "Then it is something you must learn to want. In this world – you will learn – the only way to survive is to follow the rules. You must trust society without doubt and hate your enemies with a passion. It is not my wish to quell the lion heart you have pumping blood thorough your veins, but it is my wish for you to survive. And for that to happen, you must submit to the world."

_Line break_

That night, Feliciano was haunted by his Grandpa's words. It was so sudden and uncharacteristic of him, the boy wasn't sure what to think. In the days past that seemed to long ago yet were in reality but months ago, his Grandpa had always encouraged him to be free and unaltered when living his life. The man told tales of the times of his own youth, how he had rebelled from the strict ways of his parents and followed his heart instead.

The fond smile when he spoke of Feliciano's Grandmother was etched into the boy's mind's eye. It was a smile that held such tenderness, yet such passion.

The boys thoughts kept circling to Elizabeta, injured on the streets. She was probably cold in the humid night air, shivering in some dark, dirty alley; shivering from the barks of dogs and shouts of men, any of which could find her and force her to her death. The love Feliciano felt for his friend went beyond what could be considered normality. The feelings were not those of romance like Romano believed (though Feliciano, in younger years, had though of the girl in such a way) but of close ties of family. Having lost his mother at such a young age, it was only natural for him to cling to the closest substitute available.

Absentmindedly, he fingered a small canvas painting of his Grandmother, the size of his hand, turning it over and over with slim fingers. Running a nail gently over her youthful, flushed face, he peered into her eyes to see the familiar unburdened passion that sparked as a fire. Through the hooded orbs, one could see the flames of passion burning with gut wrenching certainty.

If only he himself could be so certain. The boy cursed his fear; his family. Why must they weigh him down so?

Then his thoughts wandered to Ludwig. He could imagine the man in the cell in the same household. He was probably sitting against the bars, his face as stoney as the walls that encompassed him. The picture in his mind seemed so comical in his sleep deprived state that it almost brought a smile to his lips.

Any mirth dropped immediately when he remembered the man's fate. Nothing good ever happened to a captured slave, and Ludwig would be lucky to escape with his feet and hands. Reconsidering that, Feliciano shook his head to himself. Of course, the German would die after any merciful torture was sentenced to him. It was the way the punishment system worked in Rome. What was the point of keeping alive worthless, unobedient livestock?

That was it. His mind seemed intent on torturing him, and he rose from where he was sitting in the dark, breaking free of the fog of demons. He couldn't live with this any longer. He couldn't stand the sleepless nights and the restless, exhausting days. He hated the strict yet pitying look his grandpa gave him and the way Romano avoided him all the more that before. He hated the guilt of knowing that it was his two slaves that had escaped, thus sentencing themselves to their deaths; if felt like a personal failure.

It felt like he had already killed them himself.

But he hadn't, and they weren't dead yet. The German, so distant and cold, was beneath his very feet as he ran through the corridors, and Elizabeta was alive and waiting for help. The boy hadn't been aware that his subconscious had already been devising plans to escape the guilt that crushed him and finally be of use to the world, but now the realisation came to him he embraced it. It would be like the stories his Grandpa talked so fondly of, of his youth and of his freedom.

Feliciano had had enough of being a slave to his status.

Deafeningly, the stone steps echoed beneath his feet as he descended into the cool, underground corridor that houses two cells. One, the metal door ajar, remained empty. The other – the one that his eyes were drew to like a magnet – housed Ludwig.

Feliciano halted when he saw the German. Unlike any other time he had saw the man, this time his defences were down. Gone was the unbreakable attitude, an indifference to the cruelty of the world that rendered him in Feliciano's mind so strong. He was standing, leaning into the wall with his forehead pressed against the cool stone. His shoulders rose and fell slightly too quickly with deep, gasping breaths that gave away the man's distress. Feliciano couldn't work out whether it was the fact that his freedom had been ripped so easily from him, or whether it was the fact that his death was somewhat imminent in his current situation.

It was a hard scene to behold, and Feliciano glanced away uncomfortably. He was almost too frightened to speak, but he had come too far and was in too deep to back away now. He cleared his throat.

The German spun round at a dizzying speed, his eyes wide and glinting with an emotion Feliciano couldn't quite make out in the darkness. His hair hung in his eyes which had dark, unhealthy shadows hollowed beneath them.

"It's okay!" Feliciano said in an attempt to calm the man. "Please… It's okay."

Ludwig's eyes travelled down his body, them back up again, taking in the slight figure with lack of height. Feliciano could see his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, though he didn't know what that meant in the situation.

There was a standoff of sorts for five long seconds, with Feliciano standing helplessly with arms limp by his sides and Ludwig simply staring at him like he was crazy. Finally, surprisingly, it was the German who spoke first. "You came. Elizabeta said you would be foolish enough to."

At first, Feliciano didn't know how to respond, at a loss for words. Finally, a small smile ghosted his face. "She doesn't know me for my good sense." At the German's confused response, he laughed. "But I really am smarter than I look. It is only when I am acting off impulsiveness that I end up doing something not many others would. When I'm acting for the people I care about…"

Ludwig looked up, his brow creasing. "Care about? How can you care about a person you have forced into slavery for years, and don't even acknowledge her pain?"

Feliciano felt like the man had taken a dagger and thrust it into his chest. He might as well have. The conversation was disjointed and the two were evidently speaking from horrifically contrasting opinions. It was a cause for Feliciano to curse his naivety; every action he did in good spirit ended up hurting those who meant the most to him. He couldn't even convey that he cared, cared so painfully much, when saying it plainly and to the point.

And what was this that the man said? Feliciano couldn't begin to interoperate Ludwig's riddles.

"I-I…" He stared, unsure how to make everything work, "I really don't care what you have to say now Ludwig, I am getting you out and you will take me to Elizabeta. Don't you realise that I am risking my own life – much more my families honour – in doing this. Whatever you have to say can wait until later." Feliciano was surprised himself of the assertiveness in his voice, but a part of him felt a release in being able to channel the past day's frustration into being productive, and making sure those around him complied.

Without a word, he grabbed the ring of keys hung on a rusty hook on the wall, trying them in the lock until one clicked and the door swung open.

"Come with me,' he said, leading Ludwig by the wrist, down the passageway and up the stairs, through the villa that remained still under the watch of the moon. He had been expecting som resistance, but to his surprise, the German followed soundlessly, his bare feet only making the slightest slapping sounds in the otherwise silent air.

It was when they were out of the gate, which was a task to open quietly due to the thick hinges that cried in alarm when woken, and the scratch of the key in the lock, that Feliciano let himself release the breath that had been held for longer than he could remember. Despite still being under a high risk of being capture, it was empowering to be outside the constrictive walls without someone guarding him; someone who cared about his wellbeing. For the first time in his pathetic life, he was acting off his own decisions, pushing his uncertainty aside.

Ludwig hadn't said a word, and seemed reluctant to speak. The man was clearly uneasy in such a vulnerable position, and made up for it by reassembling his demeanour, collecting the strength that had been so easily stolen from him in his capture. He snatched his wrist away from Feliciano's grip defensively and took a long breath of the night air.

"Um… Ludwig, you know where Elizabeta is, right?" Blue eyes turned onto Feliciano's pale face, "because I don't really know where she is."

"We were heading towards to the centre of the city, where the houses are crowded, so that we could cut right through and escape to the rural areas on the other side. Elizabeta said that she knew of- but that doesn't matter. It was an old warehouse by the harbour that we were caught, though where she went after that I don't know."

"I know she won't let herself be captured, Elizabeta's too smart for that."

"It is a game of luck out there, on which you have no comprehension of."

"You're right. But I'm trying."

The atmosphere between them grew tense, and Feliciano walked a half a step behind the German to escape his accusing gaze. The moon was falling from it's peak in the sky, and when he craned his neck to look the opposite way, the navy was bleeding into a paler blue. A new day was about to begin. A new sunrise, the first time the sun looked at him when he was finally out of his prison. How reckless, how stupid he had been in just the span of a few hours. But, Feliciano considered, it was not an unpleasant feeling, even in the aching in his feet of the soreness of his legs, there was a joy to be found in the independence and lack of luxury. Beside him was a man who undoubtedly would not care if he died in the slightest – by the gods, he might even kill the Roman himself. In front of him was the city, a dirty, dangerous place crawling with the lowest of human scum, and amongst that mess waited Elizabeta, his orb of light and happiness in the world. The person he had given so much up to repay for the years he had not realised her pain.

And behind him? Behind him lay the life he used to have and the harts he had broken in leaving. Behind him was a life of order and safety, of rules and expectations and a future he did not want. A spark of apprehension raised in his chest. Was the life he was walking to the best on for him, or would it be just as bad; maybe worse.

The German, sensing the sudden apprehension, gave an unnoticed sigh. The person he was taking with him was more a pet of the Romans than a human being. The spoon fed puppy dog would not last a day alone, and it was not his intention to sacrifice his all in name of its safety.

Though a part of him felt like he had no choice but to.

_Line break_

So I have explained my absence. I hope you liked that chapter, though my confidence in my writing has plummeted and I feel like every word I write is boring and unoriginal. It has a lot to do with that friend I mentioned earlier, but I had been self-conscious of it earlier. So, if you liked this chapter, please leave me a review to let me know, I really need it right now. If you didn't please tell me how to improve. I am never offended by constructive criticism and in a way it is better than praise.


	5. Chapter 5

The moon illuminated the street in a cold, frosty light which, despite the humidity, sent a chill to the woman's bones. She was on the floor, clutching a throbbing wound that gushed a crimson through shacking fingers and stained the dirty ground as proof of her pain. Her mouth opened as a scream tried to force its way through her defences, but she was too strong and only strangled air managed to escape.

In the darkness, her eyes shone green and cunning like a cats. They were a giveaway of her location if nothing else but the smell of blood did. She had been there for hours – days? The woman was too disorientated to tell.

Though she tried to be strong, she couldn't stop the tears building in her eyes, nor the trembling that encompassed her frame, making accurate movement near impossible, and she felt almost as vulnerable as that horrific day a lifetime ago when her mother had fallen to her feet dead as her father was dragged struggling, kicking, snarling away from his family. The feeling of inevitable capture was familiar. It hurt. It hurt so much part of her longed to die from the wound; she would do so eventually any way.

Eventually, just as her instinct told her, the sound of barking, the clack of paws on the street. It wasn't as distant as the wild dogs or strays in the city, and she could make out the tread of boots that informed her that it wasn't simply a canine drawn to her smell. There were voices; hushed, close. They spoke of a lost soul being chased by vengeful men. They spoke of her.

The accents were foreign, just as hers but differently so, and fumbled with the lively Latin in a tongue meant for a much more two dimensional language. It should have reassured her, but with the knowledge that many companies hired cheap foreign labour or even made use of slaves to catch slaves only sent her unease spinning. She tried to get up. If only the wound had been more shallow she could have bore with the pain, but the muscle was damaged and so failed to support her weight. The blood loss sent her head spinning in addition.

"Look, is that her?" The dog was close now, close enough that she could feel the moist breath on her cheek and contrastingly cold nose probing her skin. Her arms failed to support her and she was forced to lie prone to the intruders as they stood around her broken body with judgemental stares.

"By all that is unknown, how did she hold on for so long?" A fragrant voice asked. The owner knelt beside her. "It's okay now, you're safe. Please, let us help you."

Sensing a lie, but too weak to retaliate, she simply sighed in resignation. The hands were around her – constricting, supporting – and she felt herself lifted between two people and carried until laid upon something resembling a stretcher. Through the abandoned streets, the unknown men stole her, taking her to an unknown location and an unknown fate.

Though the woman was certain that she was going to die.

_line break_

Feliciano soon worked out that life was very much different beyond the safety of his villa's walls. For the first time in his life, he woke before dawn, confused and disorientated as he squinted through the darkness at the figure beside him, wide, hunched shoulders curled oddly round tucked up legs. Ludwig looked uncharacteristically childish in sleep, and Feliciano wondered it it would only take a movement to wake him.

The Roman remained still for a while, relishing in the peace of the place they had stayed the night. It was a small warehouse, which seemed like they were testing fate owing to the place of Ludwig's previous capture, but was safe and cozy and had lots of wooden crates to hide behind. Judging by the dust that had piled up people rarely worked there and Ludwig has deemed it a safe place to let down their defences.

Despite only being less than a day since they had made their escape from the villa, Feliciano already felt a different person. His joy in the world went unchecked most of the time, allowing him to let positive energy to flow through him. It was a wonderful feeling, but accompanied by the harsh knowledge and hardship of the real world that contrasted the positivity. Strangely enough, it was an empowering feeling to finally experience small discomforts that everyone ought to feel yet some had the privilege not to.

Finally, he deemed it a suitable time to wake his companion. Feliciano knew that as soon as the German awoke, their rest would have ended and their dangerous journey to find Elizabeta would begin. He wanted to save his friend, but he also though it necessary to ween himself from such a comfortable lifestyle as not to overwhelm himself. He would readily admit to his weakness.

Shifting to his elbow to prop himself up, he muttered in a voice barely above a whisper, "Ludwig, wake up." There was no movement from the form. Tentatively, he shuffled across the floor to the German- a sizeable distance the cold man had put between them.

When he was close enough, he reached out an arm and gently shook the other man. Ludwig jolted upright as it he had been kicked. "Alles!" He exclaimed, eyes, blurry from sleep, searching the mucky space for the enemy.

At seeing Feliciano, he relaxed, only slightly. "Stupid boy, I would have killed you."

Feliciano, slightly shaken up from the experience, forced his shoulders down. "Sorry."

Grunting in acknowledgement, Ludwig turned away again, rising to his feet and stretching generously. Feliciano eyed the sizeable biceps, wondering how much damage they had done in the past – and were capable of doing. Maybe he would be more wary of the man from that point on. One he was done relieving the tension in his muscles, Ludwig turned and eyed Feliciano objectively. "You're going to need a change of clothes. It will look suspicion if you walk around the city in clothes of such a fine position."

Feliciano looked down at himself critically, not having considered the concept until that moment. "I guess I will… but… I didn't bring money!"

"We can get them another way."

"What?"

Not even bothering to show his annoyance at the boy's naïvety, Ludwig simply said, "steal them."

"What?" Feliciano repeated, taken aback, "you can't just steal them. Selling clothes is someone's job!"

"It is other people'e jobs to catch runaways and kill them. It is other people's jobs to force your beloved grandfather into having you killed yourself," Ludwig retaliated, his frustration showing through his icy demeanour, "may I remind you that I have no need of you any more and I could leave you to be captured. The gods know it would make my life easier! Why should I risk my life for you? What good does it do anyone but your rich, privileged hide?"

"L-Ludwig…"

The man ignored the tremble in the Roman's voice, continuing quietly, "at least know what you're getting into before making decisions as big as to run away and become a traitor."

Feliciano didn't have any reply to that. He considered the German's words as he wrapped his cloak around himself, drawing it protectively around his body, tighter than necessary. Without a word, the two headed to the crowded streets.

The city at day was much different than the city at night. Without the overprotective eyes of Roma or Elizabeta watching his every step, Feliciano struggled to keep up with the man in front of him. He was jostled at every step and it was like fighting his way through rapid waters except the water was people and submitting to the flow had worse consequences than drowning.

However, it was better that he was swallowed by the crowd, as it seemed amongst the mass of people, his fine tunic and embroidered cloak were hidden from prying eyes. Somewhere along the high street filled with stands of goods and the air ringing with the advertising cries of the merchants, Ludwig skilfully managed to sweep a rough tunic from a stand and a sheet of cloth as a makeshift cloak from one further along the street. The first time Feliciano hadn't noticed until a few steps after when he saw the brown cloth clutched in the German's fist, though the second hime he caught the swift movement – though barely. It was yet another skill Ludwig had that reminded him of the man's street worthy skills and his own lack thereof.

The set in an alley for Feliciano to change. He stripped as quickly as possible as the German stood looking for anyone who may stumble upon them at such an unfortunate moment. Thankfully, they got lucky and Feliciano was left undisturbed to change into the foreignly scratchy clothing that passed him as a commoner.

He found the commute through the streets less stressful without the constant worry of being spotted, though as the sun grew higher in the sky, it was more the haet the bothered him rather than the people. Feliciano had always had the relief of the shade in the villa's courtyard, where he would often take a siesta from tiredness of boredom of the monotony of his lifestyle. It would still be uncomfortably hot, but was the best position one could be expect to be in what with the protection from the harshest of rays and the gentle breeze that blew the light spray from the fountain in the middle.

Feliciano hadn't realised how much he had relied on if until then and found himself falling behind his larger companion who hadn't looked back for him in a while. The heat bore down on him, sapping the strength from his libs. The young Roman wanted to call out but refrained from doing so both in fear of drawing unwanted attention to them and also not wishing to be any more of a burden on Ludwig's shoulders than he absolutely needed to be. The man's words from earlier still stung – the truth in them making them all the more harsh.

A man stepped in front of him, completely blocking his view of Ludwig.

Looking up at the new obstacle, he was greeted by an unfortunate combination of features that splayed a face twisted by cruelty. He stifled a gasp as the man reached out his arms and gave the boy a harsh shove who, lacking muscle and athletic ability, failed to catch himself and fell to the hard ground. Before he could stop it, a small cry escaped his lips, betraying his fear of the situation.

"Oh?" The man announced, "a soft one have we? A pet? A prince? What is someone like you doing out on the streets?"

"I-I.."

"Can't even speak like a man." He spat, disgusted. "I'll take you to the place you belong."

"I don't know what you're speaking about," Feliciano cried in alarm, "let go!"

The man had him harshly by that arm, fingers digging in in a way that would bruise quickly and deeply. He lifted Feliciano and started dragging him to some unknown location, the onlookers passively going back to their business. Did this thing happen every day? People were acting like it was so normal.

Despite his struggles, Feliciano failed to escape the iron grip. Desperately, he wondered when Ludwig would look back and notice that he was gone, or if he would even care. Perhaps it had been the man's plan all along to loose the boy and the the cruel turn of events only make it more certain that Feliciano wouldn't be back to bother him. Feliciano didn't have time to dwell on his worry however, because the man had broken from the larger amount of people who seemed to ignore what was happening and was taking him down a smaller alley like the one he had gotten changed in that morning.

For a moment, an unspeakable fear jolted down Feliciano's spine at the thought of what the man might be planning to do to him, alone and out of hearing of anyone, so it was a small mercy when they entered a battered door into a backroom in one of the buildings.

It took a while for Feliciano's eyes to adjust to the dim light. It smelt musty and he could hear the shuffling of bodies crammed into a space far smaller than was suitable for them to be in. Tight, tense breaths echoes off the close walls, a juvenile sniff of the nose. It sounded like someone – or someones – had been crying.

As his eyes began to settle, he could make out that there were over a dozen others in the small space. The whites of their eyes showed on some, while others were sat or laying down in resignation or exhaustion. The man had apparently left after shoving Feliciano into the place, and the door, as he tried it, was locked. Turning round to face the other inhabitants, one in particular stepped forward to give a greeting of sorts.

"Are you in here like us?" The stranger asked in a quiet, gentle voice.

"Like you?" Feliciano was surprised his voice still worked, "oh, yes, I suppose so. That man grabbed me off the street and took me here; he wouldn't listen when I told him to stop."

The other boy sighed. "He's getting more confident then. No one here knows his name, we call him the Collector. He is kidnapping children and young adult and sending groups of us on from this place. I think the owner of the shop knows; I think she's in on it. Some of us are slaves or servants or poor off the street. Some have come from wealthy families, though they go the quickest. My best guess is that they are either selling us illegally, or ransoming of sending us to work in factories." He looked away from Feliciano, evading his eyes, "I'm sorry this has happened to you."

Feliciano glanced at the boy's soft eyes and gentle demeanour, and wondered again at how misfortune didn't discriminate between the nice and the evil, the guilty and the innocent. There seemed nothing malicious in the way the boy acted. Behind him, lurking suspiciously in the shadows, were the rest of those stolen away from their lives. Feliciano could see some as old as in their mid twenties and some, painfully, as young as were still clumsily toddling and clutching onto their elders.

"That's okay," he acknowledged after a while, "it wasn't your fault, it was mine for being how I am."

"No!" The boy argued, taking a sudden step forward and placing his hands on Feliciano's shoulders, "it isn't your fault. It isn't any of our faults! It is the evil in the hearts of those who use us here that is the cause of this whole mess. Don't ever blame yourself!" He paused, seemingly surprised at his own insistence, "sorry, I got carried away."

"No it's fine. You're right," Feliciano offered a smile, deciding he liked this person, "I'm Feliciano. I was… I was on a journey with a friend to find out other friend, but got left behind." He had been about to tell the story as it was, but he realised that he still couldn't be sure that these people, desperate as they were, wouldn't betray him and inform authorities, of the greedy men who could do all manner of awful things with the knowledge.

The other sighed in sympathy, "It is different to my own story, but similar to many here. I'm Matthew."

"How did you end up here?"

"Me? I was born a slave and worked for a wealthy family with my twin brother. But then these people took me, and I will never see him again. I was thrown into a deeper part of hell I guess."

Feliciano hummed in thought and struggled to maintain his smile. It was hard to be reminded of the loathing slaves had for their positions in the world – some at least. The free hearted found it hard to be tied down in the way slavery forced them into, and Matthew seemed the sort of person who would dream and inquire more of the world. Feliciano saw a lot of Elizabeta in him.

After brief introductions were made with the rest of the others, Feliciano set down in a corner, forcing his breath the say constant as he thought of the troubling predicament he had got himself into. Ludwig would have definitely noticed his absence by now. The Roman wondered if he would look for Feliciano or if he would continue on the search for Elizabeta. Selfishly, he hoped that it was the former. He didn't want to have escaped from his family and brought dishonour to their name only to life a short, tortured life as a slave or worker. It would be too cruel.

The hours passed by, the day cooling into night. Many of the others in the cell fell asleep, or at least lay down. Matthew handed him a rag of sacking as makeshift bedding and returned his smile in a comradely way. Despite being sure that sleep would evade him for hours, Feliciano fell swiftly into slumber, and deeply too. He dreamt scattered dreams that always ended up as mocking, hating, scowling faces of those he loved and those he betrayed. The last dream he had was of his future.

It was hard to make out anything through the blackness.

_line break_

The woman was wrapped in a rough but warm cloak. An open fire, different to those of a Roman standard, more free, crackled in a hearth and filled her with a warmth, thawing her chilled bones.

As the quieter of those who had found her tended the wound on her thigh, she winced as his fingers probed the area, and the boiling water washed the blood away. The pain was painful but brief, and afterward the throbbing was one of healing instead of damage. Just to be safe, the man muttered a spell to ensure good healing and handing her a bone pendant that she should wear for at least a moon to keep the spell alive.

She was dubious, but complied anyway. It wasn't like she had much choice, and despite the reassuring promises her captors made again and again, despite the fire and the cloak and the treatment, they were as far as she was concerned her enemies. Guilty until proven innocent.

_line break_

Hello again~ First off, I don't speak German, so google translate has most likely botched up whatever I used it for. Sorry about that.

This chapter rolled off the tongue. It was ver easy to write and I spent my time in a maid café at Hyper Japan planning out the whole Romanverse with a friend, and if that isn't dedication I don't know what is. There will be familiar characters, and some not so familiar, introduced throughout the story, but I am sticking to the GerIta plot line for this one. There will be others for other pairings.

I am very excited about the future of this story and I hope everyone is enjoying it as much as I am devising it. I hope to improve my writing throughout, so constructive criticism is always welcome. Also, thank you to those who reviewed last chapter, without you this on probably wouldn't exist.

Finally, it is the school holidays now, so I will have all the time in the world to write. I hope a lot is done over these next six weeks, and I hope you enjoy~


	6. Chapter 6

**First of all, may I apologise for the very late update. I have had writers block and to be honest no motivation to overcome it. It is terrible! Anyhow here this chapter is. A lot of it was written after midnight, so I hope it is okay, I have done some editing to make it as clear as possible. Enjoy~**

...

Feliciano was tired of laying awake at night, bothered by his thoughts. He had a horrible habit of doing so, though this night was made worse by the constant anxiety and fear of the unknown. He realised that he had absolutely no control over his future, and it was terrifying– it was so terrifying because, he realised, this was an unescapable reality for a lot of people, like Ludwig; like Elizabeta.

Trembling in the coolness of the night, he allowed himself to cry silently, tears brimming his eyes like they would never stop running down the streams of his cheeks. It was safe to be weak when cloaked by the darkness so that no one would discover him and exploit those weaknesses, more than they already had, as the way he simply looked had alerted the traffickers of his vulnerability.

It was almost amusing how quickly things that turned from good to bad. That morning had been a new day; it had meant to be the start of a new life. Foolishly, he had allowed himself to indulge in childish fantasies, air-headed excitement at the supposed freedom he had gained from running away. Now, he'd discovered, there was no freedom in being poor and helpless. The rich, as chained to the social hierarchy as they were, could live and think free of worry. They could do as they please and had the privilege to wish for a 'better life' someplace other than where they were.

What they were unaware of – what he had been unaware of – was that life never got better. Life was there to bring a person down, to taint and befoul them, to spit at their name and their beliefs and their happiness.

He wouldn't ever make the mistake of being as stupid again.

He was close to unconsciousness when he heard the sound at the door. It was the barest breaths, held tense with a need to be silent. Somehow, Feliciano heard it through the clammer of his thoughts. Tensing, he flinched back away from the door in fear of who may be at it. Perhaps it was one of the traffickers come to take him away and sell him to an owner who wouldn't care if he died in mere weeks. Perhaps his identity was discovered and he would be sent back to his home to face the consequences of his actions.

Who it turned out to be was very different to who he feared. Ludwig, his form shadowed and cloaked in darkness, stood tall and serious, his eyes piercing the room in search of Feliciano. The Roman in question jumped in realisation; Ludwig had returned for him. For whatever reason, whatever flaw in logic, the German who appeared to detest his very existence cared enough to risk his own capture to find Feliciano.

In any other situation, Feliciano would have sobbed for joy. Instead, he shakily stood, making he presence known to Ludwig. With tightening lips, Ludwig beckoned the boy towards the door, and the Italian complied, stepping over the sleeping forms, some who stirred in their slumber. It was inevitable that at least a few were awake, but all feigned unconsciousness.

All but the boy Feliciano had talked to earlier. As he neared the doorway, Feliciano felt a gentle yet firm hand on his shoulder, pulling him back away from the safety of his friend. Turning indignantly, he tried to tug away, only for the fingers to dig harder in a way that refused disobedience.

"What are you doing?" Feliciano hissed.

"No, what are you doing?" Matthew snapped, disregarding the observant figure in the doorway, his full attention – and full anger – directed at the other in his grasp, "what are you doing, and who is that?"

"H-he-"

"How can you just leave without asking any questions? Without even telling me?"

Feliciano found himself wordless. In his haste, he had forgotten that there was countless others in his own situation: injured, captured, like him wishing to die instead of live their whole lives an object to be owned.

Unnoticed, Ludwig had approached the struggle and pulled Feliciano towards himself. Matthew had dropped the boy's wrist, regarding the two in caution.

"Matthew… Ludwig… uh…" Feliciano found it hard to explain the situation to the two. He was wary of the tension that littered the air and would hate for conflict to break out over him between two who had both shown him such undeserved kindness. Since Matthew seemed more defensive against the massive German, who was regarding the other with more suspicion, he spoke to him first. "Matthew, this is Ludwig. He was the one travelling with me before we got separated."

The man let out a sigh. "So you are going? That is good. I was worried he was going to hurt you."

"No! he wouldn't… wait, aren't you angry with me?"

Matthew was quick to catch on. "That you were leaving without helping anyone else? Yes I am, but I understand as well. I myself have acted in the same way so many times before."

"Can't you come with us?" Feliciano asked, ignoring Ludwig's tense disapproval, "can't everyone come?"

Matthew smiled that the selfless offer, "any other time I would agree, but for now the course of fate is not pointing in that direction. It is my job to save as many as possible, and if that means me having to live in this place some time longer I can accept that. And besides, such a great number of escaped on the loose, there is higher chance of capture" His voice lowered as he leaned secretively in to the two escapees."Though, if you ever seek the sanctuary of greater powers, go to Wolf's Inn near Porta Capena, tell them Matthew sent you. But don't tell anyone else this, for the sake of us all."

Leaving the suspicious words to hang in the air around them, Matthew backed away, the small smile he sported earlier returning, though Feliciano could still see the sadness in his eyes. "Go now, and don't get caught. Remember what I told you." Feliciano allowed himself to be led away, craning over his shoulder back that the man as they left. As Ludwig closed the door, the German gave a small, understanding, almost thankful nod to the slave before closing it and locking it as it had been before.

Out in the night air, Feliciano shivered. It wasn't much colder than being in the storage room, but there was the wind and the cold stare from Ludwig that made him want to curl into a ball to retain all the heat he could.

They made their way through winding back alleys and abandoned streets. The young Roman felt no desire to break the silence and the former slave seemed to agree. Finally, when the air was just starting to smell less of the urban trading areas and more of the crowded slums of the city's bordering district, Feliciano spoke up and inquired as to where they were headed.

Ludwig replied without turning to look at him. "To the Wolf's Inn, the one that man told us to go to. You'll be safe there." Although his words were unfeeling, there was a crack in his voice from what Feliciano guessed to be exhaustion. Surely it wasn't from the strain of worrying about his useless companion.

It took a while for the meaning of the words to sink in.

"Safe?" Feliciano retorted, "you think I want to be safe? I didn't run away from home just to hide like some coward. And you have no right to tell me where to go."

"Don't I?" The German, his accent thickening in bubbling anger, had stopped and spun round to face the Roman, "don't I, even after saving your life when I had no reason to, risking my life to save your rich, spoiled behind?" He punctuated the last words with three quick, harsh shoves. They were gentle considering the man's strength, but Feliciano moved back with them anyway.

Ludwig turned away. "I don't know why I came back for you. I was all set to find Elizabeta and save a life worth saving when I couldn't stand the thought of you in the position of a slave as weak as you are. You don't deserve my sympathy."

They had continued walking, both subconsciously aware of the racket they were making. It was a few minuets before Feliciano spoke again, quietly, his head hanging low. "You shouldn't have saved me. I know Elizabeta is better than me in every way and I know I'm useless and probably a burden to you and the search for my friend. But I don't want to be useless, Ludwig, I want to help. And I'm selfish, so I want to came even if I slow you down and put you in danger." He inwardly winced at how much he sounded like he was whining.

It was a long time before Ludwig acknowledged his words.

When he did, he did with the release of a breath, almost in exasperation of the younger man's determination. "I'm not going to get rid of you, am I?" He asked, though he knew the answer.

When Feliciano hadn't answered for a few heartbeats, the tall man turned around. There was a hidden grin on the other's face; hidden by the downward tilt of his head and the fringe that hung over his eyes, yet the smile was so bright, so relieved, that it shone through like a flame at midnight.

Frowning in confusion, the German let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He felt he would never understand that boy.

The anger that had exploded from him not long before had numbed his judgement and, looking round cautiously, he felt like every shadow was watching them, everything within the shadows eyeing them maliciously. Feliciano must have felt the same way, because he had naturally drawn closer to Ludwig, not quite touching, but breaching any barriers that had been up before. Fear had a habit of playing with a person's boundaries.

They were in the lower areas of Rome. There, the houses were close together and packed streets clustered with inns and peasant's businesses. The district had undeniably became Porta Capena as they had been walking; Ludwig had been heading there subconsciously. The area that they had been in prior was focused towards the townspeople who lived there: dirty, dangerous and littered with the common place market stalls during the day. Porta Capena, on of the main roads entering the city being on its border, housed the even lower life: the travellers, the criminals, the escapees.

It was also a large place, near impossible to navigate even in the light of day.

Feeling Feliciano shiver beside him, he removed his cloak and draped it round the Roman's shoulders. He wasn't cold anyway. They trudged through the alleyways, now tired from the hours of walking they had done through the night. Both were afraid of being caught if they set down to sleep, though none admitted it. Ludwig scanned his brain for information Elizabeta had given him of this area – where the inns were, anything – and drew up blanc.

Throughout the journey, Ludwig's brain had been whirring, scanning through all the sense he had been gifted to figure how they would go about finding the female slave who was most likely injured, weak and in danger of being captured and executed. He was repeatedly distracted by the mysterious words of the man he had found Feliciano captured with. This area was where Elizabeta would have been headed anyway, being near the closest escape route from the city, and he had a fair idea what sort of organisation that man had been part of. At least, he dared let himself hope…

Nevertheless, it was worth a shot, and if he was disappointed he was able to cope with it. That was the reason he neglected to answer the Roman's fatigued questions as to where they were going; that boy had too much hope in him, and if he was told that Ludwig was going to the Wolf's Inn regardless of whether they were splitting up or not, he would get paranoid that the German was lying.

Ludwig's only challenge was to find the place. Though he was used to bearing with the worst discomforts and never truly resting, the German had been constantly fighting for his survival for months. A bed in a secure room would feel like the greatest warrior's reward if he could only get there.

Feliciano's legs failed him just as the sky was beginning to be lit up by the next day's sun. To his credit, for such a person who had never know discomfort in his life, he had endured the hours of excursion longer than Ludwig had anticipated, and with minimal whining. Subconsciously, the German wondered if his words earlier had caused the boy to grow up, or simply given him to determination to continue beyond his limits. When they had the chance, Ludwig knew he needed to have a long talk with his companion if they were to continue to travel together. He barely admitted it, but he was starting to wonder if there was more than the shallow exterior he had been faced with since that day the boy had chosen him as a slave in that market.

The young Roman muttered meaningless apologies as he fought unconsciousness and Ludwig was forced to take the man in his arms and continue carrying him from there. The German shrugged the mutterings off, though the extra weight he had to carry did nothing but add to his fatigue.

He couldn't help but notice that despite the strain Feliciano's weight put on his arms, how light the boy was.

How weak he was. And that worried him.

/line break/

They found refuge in the form of an old, rundown inn just as dawn was breaking. It would be unsafe to travel by day without the security of the night's obscurity and even if it was safe they were both too tired to continue much further.

Setting Feliciano down on the one, hard bed in the room, Ludwig slumped against the wall, allowing his legs to cease their struggle and collapse beneath him. His Roman companion was fast asleep on the bed, barely stirring as the sounds of trade and toil began with the dawn. Ludwig wanted to sleep, but, being in a new place, he felt it necessary to stay alert for at least a small amount of time to ensure their safety.

His mind refused to cease its worry anyway, and he found himself reflecting on the chaotic past few days. From becoming a slave, to escaping, to being caught again and finding Feliciano as an unbidden ally. Escaping yet again and making their way in the outside world and with it all the danger and events. And that boy, those mysterious words he spoke… It was all so much to get his head around, and he knew only to make as much sense of the riddles that slave spoke as he could.

It was well known that Rome, beneath the order and court, was riddles with weaknesses and hidden, metaphorical passages for one to enter or escape as one pleased. You only needed the right contacts and the right place. Elizabeta was one such person who had know of these people who could free herself and Ludwig, but her lips had been tight and she had not let much only her newfound friend.

All that Ludwig made out was that there was an organisation that infiltrated the regime of slavery and you could never guess which slave was a clueless server and which was one who was informed of the system's greatest weaknesses. How high up the northern woman had been – and how much she knew – Ludwig could only guess at. He didn't even know for certain that she was even inferring the truth! Yet the possibility ate at his mind and was only strengthened by the slave he had found Feliciano protected by.

'It is my job to save as many as possible… sanctuary of greater powers… The wolf's inn… for the sake of us all…' That was what he had said, and Ludwig wished his mind was sharper so that it made sense. But his mind was not sharp, and he couldn't unlock the secrets buried in those words. All he could do was seek this sanctuary Matthew had spoke of and take it from there. Maybe it would lead him to Elizabeta.

"Ludwig?" he opened his eyes, which he hadn't realised he had closed, at Feliciano's voice. He was sitting up on the bed, staring with an intensity that set the German on edge.

"Yes, what is it?"

"You should sleep, you haven't rested in a while. And the floor must be so cold and hard, a bed must be better."

"You wouldn't be able to sleep on the floor, but I am used to it."

"I will be fine and anyway, you will always sleep better on a bed."

Ludwig sighed at his stubbornness. "Fine, just wake me up after a few hours, or is there is any sign of danger." Sleeping on a bed would be nice after so long…

"Of course, I'm not that stupid," Feliciano laughed, stretching painfully as he stood up. "Sleep well, Ludwig, thank you for today."

If Ludwig's face wasn't hidden, he would have rolled his eyes. Instead, he made so sighing and melting into the mattress beneath him, feeling strangely protected by the bedcovers. It wasn't long before he was lost to unconsciousness, and Feliciano followed soon after, despite the uncomfortable floor he had to put up with after sacrificing the bed to his companion.

...

 **Thank you for reading and I hope that was okay, especially after the long wait. I am ver insecure about my writing ^^' I hope to update soon, we will see, but trust me, the story is only just getting started.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the wait as always. Short update today, but it is a pivotal point in the plotline. Sorry for any spelling and grammar, I haven't proofread yet. Enjoy~**

...

When Ludwig and Feliciano finally found The Wolf's Inn, the sky was darkening and the streets quiet of the daytime traders. The lowly nightlife of the city was making an appearance, all kinds of shady figures, any of which could be undercover soldiers, dotting the streets.

Although it went against his common sense, Ludwig led them to the darker alleys, places that, while having less people, were a prime for those who couldn't show their face even amongst the lowest of the low. It was a dangerous place to be, but it was a harsh realisation that Ludwig and Feliciano fitted well into that category. In the daylight, Ludwig was constantly at risk of capture and recognition – Feliciano too, but if he was found a less severe punishment would await him that the death Ludwig would receive. At night, Feliciano's feminine build and high class complexion put him at risk of unwanted interest.

It was a complete accident that they came across the building, and so unbelievable that Feliciano made a naive mention that it was fate. Situated in the empty back alleys of rundown Rome, the Inn was less of a public building and more of a shady residence, an uninviting door and only a wooden sign nailed to the side of the building alerting that that it indeed was the place they had been looking for.

Reluctantly, Ludwig pressed gently on the door. It stuck at first, but as he pushed harder it opened with a jolt, the door slamming against the wall behind it making both of them jump. Ludwig entered first, Feliciano behind him, the younger man having to hold back from clutching the German's tunic in fear. Inside was dark, but illuminated by candles dotted round the room creating an eerie and secretive atmosphere. It was obvious that this was not in fact an inn and the sign outside merely there to hide something; it's exclusion from the outside world deterring stranger's entry.

"Ludwig, I don't think this is an actual inn," Feliciano whispered, his voice high in tension. Ludwig turned back and nodded once to show he understood the obvious fact, then returned to surveying the room.

The attackers came without a sound. One minute Ludwig was squinting through the darkness, reluctant to continued further into the building, the next strong arms held his own and he felt the biting cold of a dagger blade against his adam's apple. "Don't struggle or I'll slit your throat, don't think that I won't," a voice hissed into his ear. He calculated, through his panic, that there was two men restraining him, and the voice who'd spoken belonged to the man whose blade was at his throat. Nodding in affirmation, he ceased struggling and forced his muscles to relax, knowing that it was wise to listen to his captor.

A lantern was lit by someone standing separately, the flickering flame illuminating oddly red hair that sprung from his head. Feliciano had a hand held forcefully over his mouth and only one person restrained him, which explained why Ludwig hadn't been able to hear the other's cry. It would be too strange for the man to stay calm in such a situation.

"Who are you, and why are you here?" The red head demanded, his face sharp and cunning and hard.

It was hard for Ludwig to think quickly. "The Wolf's Inn… we were sent… by… by…"

"By whom?"

"Matthew. He told us to come here and tell you he sent us," the man holding Feliciano had uncovered him mouth, and the Italian was quick to help, "p-please, it's the truth."

"Matthew?" The man holding the Feliciano asked, his voice fluctuating in surprise.

"Matthew?" The red head questioned the other.

"That bastard slave we rescued a few moons back and who agreed to join us. The quiet one."

Recognition in his eyes, the red head grinned. "So it is true, you are friends of the movement? Ah, I can see it in your eyes that you don't know a thing we're talking about. You are escaped slaves, right?"

"Yes," Ludwig said, giving Feliciano a stern look to keep quiet. It was just like him to want to tell the truth, despite the trouble it may get him in.

"You're not from Britannia, by any chance?"

"No, I'm Ludwig, from Germania. That, that is Feliciano, Greek."

"Makes sense," the red head grinned. "I'm Allistor, that's Dylan with young Feliciano there. We hail from Britannia. And that bastard there is Erin," he pointed to the ginger who had released Ludwig from his restraint, "from Ireland, across the sea. We're brother's though, we're all brothers. Ignore the last, he has no name and doesn't really matter."

"Is that so?" Ludwig muttered under his breath, observing the thickset man who'd been holding his arms suspiciously. There was something about his face that he didn't trust.

"But this doesn't matter right now. I expect you need some rest and we will have to hear your full story, as you need to understand the movement we have going on here. Follow me," Allistor said pleasantly as he turned and strode confidently to the door. Apprehensively, Ludwig followed as Erin shot him a bright grin that contrasted his earlier threatening words.

"Come now," The Irishman chirped, tugging his sleeve and obviously not at all intimidated by Ludwigs significantly larger build. Feliciano, who was now smiling that annoyingly bright smile of his and exchanging pleasantries with Dylan, spared a glance at his companion, the relief evident in his eyes.

…

They followed Allistor into a basement of sorts, the door hidden in the deepest shadows of the room which led down cold stone stairs. The way was lit by similar candles along the wall, but for the most part it was very hard to see one foot in front of another. Thankfully, it was a shallow room that they arrived in, lit much better than any of the places that had been in prior.

A blazing fireplace lit much of the room and warmed it, filling what would be a sombre cavern in it's cheerful glow. The basement was deceivingly large, with several beds in the far corner and tables and chairs neared to the warmth. It was occupied by around a dozen other people and the air was stuffy, its only escape route being through the thin slit windows that peeped out onto the street.

Such a crowded area made Ludwig feel anxious, but he couldn't deny its welcoming atmosphere. Despite this, it only served to confuse him more. Obviously Matthew had been part of something much, much bigger than he had previously assumed and without knowing exactly what the organisation stood for he could not be sure whether it was a game he was willing to play.

However, in the moment they were offering a safe place for escaped slaves: a bed, warmth, he smelled the hearty cooking of the northern cultures in the air bringing back memories. And beer. People around the room were drinking plenty of beer, such a drink being precious and unusual compared to the popular wines of the Romans.

All in all, it was a very Britannic place, and his people had no conflict with them so he assumed he was safe for now.

It appeared that Erin had been assigned the duty of looking after him, showing him the inner workings of the place. As he spent more time with the man, he relaxed. Although at the beginning he was none to pleased to be forced to spend more time with a man who'd threatened his life, Erin's true intent seemed to be the for benefit of the other's in the shady organisation and he treated Ludwig well, better than he was used to being treated.

"So what brought you into meeting small Matthew," the Irishman asked. After assigning Ludwig a hard bed and offering him some bread and stew, they were sitting nursing a beer each, Ludwig savouring each mouthful. A fiddler accompanied by a celtic whistle had began to play, the uplifting and melodic tune instantly improving the moods of the rooms inhabitants.

Ludwig hesitated, hoping the Italian wouldn't be asked the same question, and stuck as close to the truth as possible. "When Feliciano and I were on the run, we got separated and he was taken by some traffickers. He was with Matthew when I found him."

"I figured as much," Erin leaned back and stretched, "he seems innocent for a slave."

Unsure of how else to answer, Ludwig nodded in silent assent.

He barely caught how the man's bright green eyes thinned in suspicion.

"How did you two escape in the first place?"

"Ahm…" Ludwig struggled with words, "He was working in the household I was bought into, and we escaped together."

"Oh really, what was his job?"

"... Assistant cook?"

"Oh, I see. Strange, then, how well spoken he is, and how smooth his hands are. Look at the way he carries himself, that is not the posture of a kitchen boy. He is way to relaxed. I have learned to read people through the years and it is a valuable skill, German. Also… his accent isn't Greek. Perhaps I should ask him to speak some?"

Ludwig remained silent, unused to the need to think quickly. He shuffled under the gaze of the other man.

"You're not who you say you are, am I right, German?"

It was a while before Ludwig could answer. His heart was beating in his chest hard; harder than usual. "I am telling part of the truth," Ludwig sighed, "I am German and was bought as a slave to his household."

"But?"

"But Feliciano didn't work there. He lived there. I was his slave."

Orange eyebrows shot up. "Fucking hell, I knew you weren't telling the truth, but of all the things… Why on earth would you defend him?"

"I don't know!" Ludwig growled, "he helped me escape and never seemed to wish anyone harm! He treated me kinder than anyone had before and I couldn't just leave him to die – because he would die in the real world alone –when he risked his life to help me in the first place."

Ludwig didn't think the Irishman's eyebrows could have climbed higher, but they did. "I believe you have a lot more to tell me. It is a good thing that the night is long."

There was no other option, so Ludwig told.

…

Elizabeta had only had a few days to recover from her escape before it was time to move on. But that was the way it worked in the Freedom Movement, and she was more than willing to help it after all they had done for her.

Surveying her surroundings, the woman couldn't believe how quickly her life had changed. She had started out as the willing slave of her 'master', more like a friend than an owner. Despite sweet Feliciano, the German who she'd met had planted the seed of freedom in her mind, and she had escaped, thinking that she would either leave Rome for her homelands or die trying. She never, not in a million years, though that instead of leaving the cruel hierarchy she would willingly enter the belly of the beast.

She had secured a place in the Emperor's palace as a servant, one favoured by the man himself. Her Northern beauty, so pale in comparison to her olive skinned counterparts, enthralled the man and her feisty nature was one he appreciated where most would not.

She thanked the gods that he only wished for her conversation and made no further advances than a kiss that she denied him. In all honestly, he was a middle aged, lonely man, dissatisfied with his marriage and starved of love. She gave him the company he craved, and he began to trust her more and more. So much, even that the information she relayed to the network of spies in the palace was very useful indeed for the movement.

In taking her place as a spy for the Freedom movement, she had sacrificed the safe passage that had been offered to her in favour of doing all she could to end this awful slavery once and for all. Some may have said it was selfless, but she viewed it as her duty and one she was proud to accept.

During her days in the palace, she became acquainted to a young boy of no more than twelve. His face was unusual and it appeared that he was part of an elaborate collection of 'exotic' slaves the empress owned. He was quiet, polite and shy, barely speaking in the start. But, as she got to know him better and made it known that she was on his side, he slowly opened up. His dark, hidden eyes told of a cruel past and a painful present.

He told her of his brother, who had died after doing so much for him; had been killed in sacrificing his life for him. He told of his one time in the gladiator arena where he had been a slave doomed an easy kill for the trained warriors, and how the empress had stopped the whole thing, fascinated by his mysterious beauty. He was from a place he called 'Nihon', thousands of miles east.

It was cruel for a child to be exposed to such horror so young and it was for this reason that Elizabeta fought. She could not let people like this live a life of misery, live only to serve another. It was her duty, as a warrior and a woman.

…

 **Hope that was enjoyable. Can you guess who the boy Elizabeta's with is?**

 **Allistor: Scotland**

 **Erin: Republic of Ireland**

 **Dylan: Wales (aka the best country am I right. Yes, I am Welsh ^^)**

 **Please review. I am going through a hard time, but reviews make me so happy, plus any improvement suggestions is always appreciated**.


	8. UPDATE!

**News! To Be Free is being rewritten on Archive of Our Own!**

Thank you to everyone for being so patient and supportive. I haven't abandoned To Be Free; it is currently being rewritten and posted on Archive of Our Own, with a far better writing style and plot management.

Find it here (Remove the spaces): archiveofourown works /10146062 /chapter s/225 49130

Currently, 6000 words have been posted, and there is a similar number being edited.

Thank you again!

~Fyrsil


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